I Should Be Committed
by Gamma Orionis
Summary: A collection of drabbles written for prompts on tumblr. 1: Hannibal/Abigail, 2: Freddie, 3: Hannibal/Alana, 4 through 6: Will/Matthew, 7: Will/Matthew and Hannibal, 8: Jack and Alana
1. Hannibal and Abigail

Author's Notes: This collection is made up of assorted, unrelated drabbles written during periods when I accept prompts on tumblr. They are of varying tone, rating, pairing, and quality, and were mostly done in a very impromptu manner. And they are likely to contain spoilers up to the most recent episode at any given time.

Enjoy!

* * *

Hannibal/Abigail for elevenismyspiritanimal

)O(

He's apologized for the disfigurement. Whether he actually regrets doing it - or even regrets that they found themselves in a situation where he _had_ to do it - is anyone's guess; Abigail wouldn't presume to understand enough about him to be able to tell whether his remorse was real or feigned.

Truth be told, the loss of an ear doesn't upset her as much as he seems to think it does. What does it matter, when she's hidden away where no one but him sees her? The occasions when he deems it safe for her to go outside with him - in the dead of night, with a gun in her pocket - aren't ones where a missing ear is likely to be noticed, and if (God forbid) she should ever run into someone who recognizes her, an ear would be the least of her worries.

But she doesn't tell him how little her ear matters. She pins her hair back to expose the place where it should be, tips her head _just so_ when they're together so that the wound is visible, and if ever she senses that he's in a mood that could be dangerous to her (_too often_), she cups her hand over it as if it pains her.

Making herself seem delicate and helpless protects her. She would not give that power up on such foolish grounds as it being marginally dishonest.


	2. Freddie

Freddie for elevenismyspiritanimal

)O(

Freddie knelt in front of the television set, eyes wide, leaning forward and listening intently so she could capture every word of the TV reporter's speech and commit it to perfect memory. The reporter was standing in front of a courthouse, and the banner at the bottom of the screen proclaimed "Dahmer trial in progress"

"Freddie!" Mrs. Lounds said sharply. "Turn that off. You aren't old enough."

"Aw, Mom!" Freddie complained. "I've been waiting _forever_ to find out whether they're going to convict him!"

"Honestly, I don't know about you." She shook her head. "You're altogether too interested in that case. It's unnatural. Turn it off."

Freddie reluctantly pressed the switch and stood up. She placed her hands on her hips. "When I grow up, I'm going to be a reporter, and I'm gonna watch trials and hunt murderers all day long."

"Gracious!" Mrs. Lounds rubbed her forehead. "When you grow up, I'm sure I won't be able to stop you."

"Yeah," Freddie said, drawing herself up tall. "No one will."


	3. Hannibal and Alana

Hannibal/Alana; Strangle for bovinecross

)O(

She looked so peaceful, sleeping beside him. When she was awake, Alana was certainly one of the most clever of the people he surrounded himself with, but asleep, she was as naïve as anyone.

But then, she had always been a little naïve when it came to him.

There had been a time (not even a time very long ago) when he would have been more than happy to indulge her in her innocent belief that he was a man, not a monster. If they had slept together a few months ago, before all the unfortunate events surrounding Will, it would not have needed to end this way.

But there was no helping that. Alana's belief in his goodness would be crushed all too soon if he let her live. It was necessary that he ended it (ended_ her_) on his own terms, before she could do any damage.

And he could not complain. He had even gotten the chance to enjoy a night with her before he did it.

He touched her pretty face, smoothed back her lovely hair, then placed both hands firmly around her neck and pressed her windpipe closed.


	4. Will and Matthew

Matthew/Will; Palaeontologist AU for priuses

)O(

Matthew lurked in the shadows to watch Will Graham work. The intensity radiated off of him like heat from a fire when he was bent over a table of bone fragments. Matthew both envied and admired his talent for seeing a skeleton where others saw only dust. Will Graham was, after all, a uniquely talented individual.

Matthew Brown was not so talented. An outsider even might go so far as to call him supremely untalented, in fact, though the outsider would be wrong to say that. Matthew did have his talents. Just nothing on Will's level.

He approached Will slowly, cautiously, from behind, watching him turn fragments of fossilized vertebrae over and over between graceful fingers clad in white latex gloves. Matthew had a mad desire to rest his own hands over those, his palms against the backs of Will's hands, so he could echo every movement…

At the last moment, he fell back. Will never raised his head, and in the white noise of the laboratory, Matthew wasn't sure if he had even heard him approach.

He couldn't talk to Will Graham - _the_ Will Graham. Not now, not like this. He didn't dare. No, he needed to do something else first, something to prove that he was worthy to even _express admiration_ towards Will - maybe, even, to express the other feelings that Matthew had for him.

It had to be something big.

A gesture of adoration.

Something to let Will know, not only that he had an admirer, but that his admirer was good enough for him.


	5. Will and Matthew II

Will/Matthew; Animal Shelter AU for Anonymous

)O(

Will Graham stumbled into the foyer of the shelter like a zombie. Or a sleepwalker. His joints had a charming, jerky gracelessness to them (graceless, that was, to the mind of anyone except Matthew), and his hair was mussed. There were dark circles under his eyes.

"Hi, Mr. Graham. Here to adopt another dog?"

Will nodded.

"Rough day at work?" Matthew asked casually. He had, over time, noticed a high correlation between the days when Will Graham came into the shelter with a hankering for puppies, and the days when there were articles published about gruesome murders that Will Graham had not yet solved. Not that Matthew payed attention. Not that he marked days when Will came into the shelter with little 'W's in his dayplanner. Not that he scoured Tattle Crime every morning to see whether there were any mentions of him. Of course not. That would be weird.

"Yeah." Will ran a hand through his messy dark hair, then rubbed his eyes, displacing his thick-framed glasses. Matthew leaned towards him unconsciously, hoping that he'd say more - that he'd confide _something_ in him - but he didn't, and when the silence dragged out a little too long, Matthew cleared his throat.

"Uh, so, what sort of dog were you thinking of?"

"One that's been here a long time," Will said, and Matthew almost swooned. Will was so thoughtful, always wanting to give homes to the dogs that weren't likely to get any. It was beyond him how someone could be so caring, so talented at their work, and so good-looking, all at the same time.

"Uh…"

Matthew blinked and realized that he had been staring.

"Oh. Sorry. Um. Come with me."

He led Will down the familiar hall, past cages of dogs. Most of them were asleep, but some barked at the two men as they passed by. Will gazed longingly at each one, and Matthew gazed longingly at Will.

"I love dogs," he blurted out, and Will looked at him and blinked. His face heated immediately. _Duh._ Of course he loved dogs. Why else would he work at an animal shelter? "I mean. I guess you do too, right?"

"I like taking care of strays," Will said, and looked back at the cages. A shaggy three-legged puppy hobbled towards him.

"That's so cool."

Will ignore him. He crouched down and looked at the puppy, as if he'd completely forgotten that he had been talking to a human. Matthew cleared his throat.

"I was wondering if maybe you'd–"

"I want this one," Will interrupted.

"Huh?"

Will pointed at the puppy, which let out a little yipping sound and looked up hopefully. "You already have all my information, don't you? Can I take him home?"

"Oh… right…" Matthew's mouth was dry. "Uh, yeah, I'll just get the paperwork."

He left Will with the puppy and returned to the front desk. His hands felt like jelly, but he managed to get the filing cabinet open and extract a copy of the adoption forms that Will Graham had filled out more times than he could count.

He hesitated for a moment, wavering, then grabbed a post-it note from his desk and scribbled his phone number on it. He paused, pen suspended over the paper, trying to think of some brief note he could add, something to clearly communicate that he was interested in seeing more of Will without it coming off like he was _completely _desperate…_  
_

"Have you got that paperwork?" Will asked, and Matthew jumped and looked around guiltily. He was standing in the corridor, already cuddling the puppy against his chest.

"Uh. Yeah. Just a second."

Matthew crumpled up the post-it note in his hand and passed the forms to Will, face burning.

_Next time. Next time he'd work up the nerve._


	6. Will and Matthew III

Will/Matthew; Prison Food for Anonymous

)O(

Bringing Will Graham his meals was usually the highlight of Matthew's work day. More accurately, any opportunity to see Will Graham was the highlight of Matthew's day, and that opportunity was usually bringing him lunch. It was a thankless task (and for good reason - even the smell of prison food was enough to make anyone gag), but a few moments of eye contact with Will was almost enough to make up for it, even if Will was usually frowning over the food or staring absently through him, like he didn't even see him, when he was lost in thought about whatever it was that went on inside that incredible mind of his. That didn't trouble him.

It _was_ troubling when Will didn't even get up to take his lunch.

Matthew set down the tray leaned against the bars of the cell. Will didn't look at him. He was shivering, hunched over and hugging himself.

"Is something wrong, Mister Graham?"

Will shot him a brief sideways glance of disbelief, as if to say, _of course there's something wrong. I'm in jail_. "Upset stomach."

"Something you ate?"

Will raised his head slightly and glowered at him. "I wouldn't know. You're the one who brings me my food."

"I don't have anything to do with the cooking." _If I did_, Matthew added silently, _you'd eat like a king._

Will folded his hands and put them in front of his mouth. "It's enough to make me miss Hannibal's food…" he mumbled, and Matthew stiffened.

Hannibal. Will never stopped talking about Hannibal. It didn't even matter who he was talking to, it was always Hannibal this, Hannibal that. Hannibal was the Chesapeake Ripper, Hannibal was his best friend, Hannibal did this, that, and the third. Hannibal was a great cook. _Hannibal, Hannibal, Hannibal._ Like Hannibal was worth even a minute of Will Graham's time. Matthew would have strangled him in the prison halls long ago if he didn't expect that to just give Will _more_ to talk about.

"What did he cook for you?" Matthew asked, choosing his words very carefully so that his lisp wouldn't betray his upset.

Will shrugged. "Showy meat dishes. I don't know."

"Maybe I can say something to the cook," he said. Will did nothing to acknowledge him, and, after a few moments of hovering nervously, waiting for a response, Matthew slunk away.

He would, he vowed, go look up meat recipes as soon as his shift ended. Matthew had never done a day's cooking in his life, besides coffee and instant noodles, but if Hannibal could make Will showy meat dishes, then Matthew damn well could too. And he'd get them to him in prison too.


	7. Will, Matthew, and Hannibal

Will/Matthew; Will picking Matthew over Hannibal for tassyriddle

)O(

"I told you that the light of friendship wouldn't reach us for a million years." Will's voice was trembling slightly, and Matthew, watching from the sidelines, knew it well enough to know that the tremor was one of anger, not fear. "Did you think I was going to change my mind?"

"I thought you said what you said in the heat of anger," Hannibal said simply. "You were in a state of understandable distress."

"Being in _a state of understandable distress_ doesn't mean that I didn't mean what I said." Will leaned forward and gripped the bars of his cage so hard that, even from the distance, Matthew could see his knuckles turning white. "The fact that you think that there's even a _chance_ for friendship after what you did to me…"

"Will." Hannibal approached the cage until he was so close that Will could have reached out and strangled him, and though he knew it would doom both Will and him, Matthew found himself mentally urging him to. _Go on. Do it. Bastard doesn't deserve to_ live. Will's hands twitched, but they didn't rise.

"I thought you and I had developed a relationship," he said. How he could stand there and say things like that to a man he had confined to jail was beyond Matthew's admittedly frail understanding of humanity.

"Any relationship we ever had was built from lies and corpses." Will stood up slowly, so he was face-to-face with Hannibal. "And whatever qualities we have in common are ones I wish I didn't have."

Hannibal was silent for a long moment. Matthew couldn't see his face, but he could see Will's, could see him staring so hard into Hannibal's eyes that it must have burned. When at last Hannibal spoke, his voice was quiet, dark, tinted with danger, and quite unlike his usual smooth, diplomatic tones.

"Without me, what friends do you have, Will?"

"Visiting time is up," Matthew said loudly. Both Hannibal and Will startled visibly, but Matthew didn't care. Hannibal's tone of voice had set off an instinctive protective reaction in him, and he wanted Hannibal _out_, far away from Will Graham, far enough away that he could never hurt him.

Hannibal's eyes flicked from Matthew to Will, back again, and then narrowed slightly. For half a second, an ugly frown marred his face, but then he smoothed it away and gave Matthew a polite nod.

"Of course," he said. "I'll see myself out."

Matthew watched him go, stiff and puffed out and standing between Hannibal and Will like an animal defending its nest. In the doorway, Hannibal turned back one last time and caught Matthew's eye, and something dangerous glinted in him. But then he was gone.

"He won't have liked that," Will said dully. "He'll think you've replaced him. _Outshone_ him."

Matthew turned back to Will. "Haven't I?"

"Yes," he said, and sank back down in his cage. "But he won't have liked it."


	8. Jack and Alana

Will/Matthew, "Jack deals with the fallout (because no one can convince me Matthew wouldn't persuade Will into some revenge killing)" for blue-angels-and-zen-cops

)O(

It was a sad day for Jack Crawford when he needed to rely on Tattle Crime to keep him up-to-date on crime, but stories about Will Graham popped quicker on it than any paper could have managed, and he did consider it his responsibility - his penance - to read the grisly details of every crime his former special agent committed.

"Are you reading Freddie Lounds again?" Alana asked, and Jack looked up quickly. He hadn't even noticed her coming into his office, so consumed had he been in absorbing her report of Will's most recent murder. The article was accompanied by several low-quality pictures taken from someone's phone of two thin, dark-haired men, walking along the street where the murders had been committed, arm in arm, one whispering in the other's ear, and finally, of one of them looking over his shoulder, directly at the owner of the phone. Will Graham's face was blurry, but unmistakable.

"Did I do this to him?" Jack asked, without answering Alana's question.

"Matthew Brown did this to him," she said firmly.

"He wouldn't have met Matthew Brown if it weren't for me." Jack stared bleakly at the grainy picture of the two of them. Matthew Brown's face wasn't visible in any of the pictures, but Jack didn't for a moment doubt that it was his back that he was looking at.

"You can't blame yourself for that, Jack." Alana closed his laptop and put her hand on top of it so he couldn't open it again. "You were wrong to have him incarcerated, you know that now, but you couldn't have predicted that he'd meet Matthew Brown there. That's the state hospital's fault for hiring someone like him - and there _will_ be an inquiry into that, if I have anything to do with it."

"Good luck with that inquiry," Jack said grimly. "Maybe you can file a complaint once they're caught. None of us are going to have anything to do with _anything_ until they're both in jail. You remember what things were like right after Will was incarcerated?"

"Mm." Alana nodded.

"That's _nothing_. At least then, when we were being inspected, he wasn't at large."


End file.
